Age is the Limit
by The Magnetic Witch
Summary: G1. A series of related one-shots based off the idea of "young!twins". Or, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe may have lied about their ages when they joined the Autobots.


_Alright, first off I would personally like to dedicate this to SMStransformers on tumblr! They're a pretty swell person, and I want to thank them for giving me the inspiration for this. (Well-_ _them and their Anons!)_

 _Also; I've got no idea how often I'll update, or how long these'll be, but I swear that I'll do better than I have with_ Starpatterned Gifts _!_

 _ **Quick In-universe note** : Obviously this is kinda incorrect, but I've split sparkling, younglings and adults into three human-equivalent age categories: 0-13 "years"(meaning however long it takes for a Cybertronian to get to that point, I'm kind of vague on purpose) = sparkling, 14-24 "years" = youngling, 24+= adult. Sides and Sunny are kinda...okay so it's confusing because of the stasis and the inconsistencies with dates, but let's say they're 15-16 and joined 12-13?_

* * *

— CHAPTER ONE —

"How'd you even get this?" Ratchet asked with a scowl, concentrating on welding the armor in his servos shut. The red mech at his mercy laughed.

"It was Skywarp, believe it or not! There Sunny-"

"Don't call me that _._ "

"-and I are, innocently executing some Jet Judo, and I'm tearing out some wiring outta the old birdbrain and he's yelling his head off when Thundercracker tells him that if he's that bothered that Skywarp may as well actually _do_ something about it, so next thing I know we're in the fragging _Amazon_ , Ratchet, can you believe that?!"

"It's Skywarp so, unfortunately, I can." The medic replied with a grimace.

"Right?! But then Skywarp gets the bright idea to _dive into the jungle-_ "

"Idiot," Sunstreaker snorted.

"-I know! But he dives straight for the jungle and I'm hanging on for dear life and - and this is the best part, but d'you know what the idiot does?!"

"Let me guess; he crash-"

"He _crashes_! Right! Into! The! _Ground_!"

Ratchet patted the red mech, faux sympathy etched into his features as he double checked Sideswipe's vitals.

"Oh, you poor sparkling, do you want an energon goodie or to keep whining?"

Sideswipe muttered something under his breath too quiet for the other two to hear, but Ratchet thwacked him lightly on the back of his head. Just in case, probably, or he had actually heard him. Sunstreaker could never tell with the mech.

Ratchet suddenly frowned, squinting at the datapad. Sideswipe began to sit up, but the medic stopped him.

"Hold on a moment, Sideswipe. There's an anomaly in your readings."

Sunstreaker tensed at these words, ignoring the reassuring smile Sideswipe sent him. Ratchet snorted suddenly;

"Well _this_ can't be right... I'll have to have First Aid double check our equipment for tampering. You two haven't done anything to it, have you?"

"I don't _do_ pranks," Sunstreaker refuted flatly. Sideswipe snickered,

"And believe me, I've tried to get him to! But nah, I haven't done anything either, and I try not to mess with the medical stuff. Why? Is something wrong?"

Ratchet snorted again.

"Wrong? You can say that - I've never given you two a full systems scan since we were in stasis before I got a chance, but I'm sure I'd notice if you two were _younglings_."

Sideswipe jerked, and Sunstreaker dropped the rag he was holding. Ratchet stared at them, bemused, and then a hint of suspicion entered his stare.

"Which you _aren't_ , right?" The medic demanded.

"Nope, totally not!" Sideswipe lied in the _least convincing tone ever_.

Ratchet offlined his optics for a solid minute, venting heavily.

"... You two are in _so. Much. Trouble._ No one had better have known about this!"

Sideswipe shook his head quickly, but Sunstreaker shrugged.

"I always figured Prime at least had an idea," He volunteered. The murderous look in Ratchet's optics would have sent any hardened Decepticon fleeing.

" ** _OPTIMUS PRIME!_** " Ratchet roared. No doubt the entire Ark could hear him, and Sunstreaker traded a wide-optic stare with Sideswipe. Neither had ever actually seen the notoriously bad-tempered medic so enraged.

: _Uh, I think Ratchet's on the war path..._ : Bumblebee cautiously pinged on the public comm. channel.

" _ **YOU COME HERE RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME OPTIMUS I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU AND ANYONE WHO GETS IN MY WAY!**_ "

: _He's not even using the comm.'s,_ : said Jazz, and he sounded just the littlest bit awed.

Sideswipe laughed nervously.

"Uh, Ratchet, it really isn't that big of a deal—"

" _You two_ ," Ratchet whirled around, optics blazing like blue hellfire, " _do not get a say in how appropriate or inappropriate this is._ "

Sideswipe leaned back, a startled noise escaping him.

"Okay!" He squeaked, panicked. He glanced at Sunstreaker, silently begging for help, but Sunstreaker quickly shook his head; he was _not_ risking the Hatchet's infamous, righteous wrath turning on him. Ratchet glared at them both a moment more before turning back to the doorframe, fixated on it as if it were Unicron himself.

Sunstreaker quietly activated his own comm., contacting Wheeljack.

: _I need a favor._ :

: _Who-Sunstreaker?_ : Wheeljack sounded confused.

Sunstreaker hesitated very slightly.

: _... Ratchet's fragged off, and you're the only one I can think of that maybe has a chance of calming him down before Prime gets here._ :

: _If you got in trouble,_ : Wheeljack replied cautiously, : _I'm not getting between you, Ratchet and Optimus._ :

: _No, it's-this is going to sound stupid, but if you don't calm him down_ right now _we're going to have one less Prime in a matter of kliks._ :

There was a beat of silence from the engineer.

: _Who're you talking to?_ : Sideswipe suddenly questioned, voice tiny.

: _Wheeljack,_ : he answered absently.

: _... Ratchet's mad at Optimus?_ : Wheeljack asked, horrified. Sunstreaker made an affirmative noise, eying the enraged medic who had begun grabbing every single wrench within reaching range.

: _Oh. Cool. What's Jackie saying?_ :

Ratchet's optics suddenly took on a somewhat manic quality, darting to the twins, and Sunstreaker stiffened while Sideswipe wilted.

" ** _ARE YOU EVEN OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEM INSTALLED IN YOUR PROCESSOR?!_** "

"Probably!" Sideswipe said nervously, unthinkingly, before Sunstreaker could say anything to possibly salvage the situation. Ratchet did something with his hands that was very expressively murderous, and the gold mech was slightly impressed despite himself. That was a lot of killing intent being portrayed through his servos.

Unfortunately, with Ratchet's vocalizer at maximum output, this didn't leave much to the imagination as to why Ratchet was so angry; this was made obvious when the public channel practically exploded.

: _Alright, who lied about their age?!_ : Hound demanded, voice appalled.

: _Is THAT what happened?_ : Asked Jazz curiously.

: _Wait, is that you and Sideswipe in there with Ratchet?!_ : Wheeljack squawked over their private line.

: _Someone lied about their age?_ : Prowl demanded to Jazz, and they both evidently switched to a more secure channel since Jazz didn't respond.

: _Just-calm him down, Wheeljack, Sideswipe and I'll owe you one,_ : Sunstreaker replied tiredly.

: _I wonder if Optimus knows..._ : mused Mirage.

:N _o, seriously Sunstreaker, what's this about being old enough for the comm. system?_ :

: _Oh!_ * Gasped Bumblebee, : _That must be why Ratchet's yelling for him!_ :

: _None of your business, are you gonna help or not?_ : Sunstreaker bristled defensively.

: _I'LL YELL AT ALL OF YOU NEXT IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR TRAPS AND LET ME HANDLE THIS._ : The aforementioned medic snapped.

There was a suddenly blissful silence from the public channel, but an electronic buzz in the air that meant several private conversations were suddenly taking place. At least they were actually PRIVATE now, however, because the frontliner was beginning to have difficulties keeping track of which conversation he was supposed to be paying attention to.

: _... Primus, Sunstreaker, how old* are *you an Sideswipe? I've never heard Ratchet so mad!_ : Wheeljack said after a beat. He sounded simultaneously amazed and baffled.

Sunstreaker grit his denta, irritation rising.

: _Thats unimportant, now would you FRAGGING help?_ :

: _Alright, alright!_ : said Wheeljack hurriedly. There were times Sunstreaker hated being intimidating; this was definitely not one of those times.

But then Optimus was carefully inching his large frame into the medbay, and it suddenly didn't matter that Sunstreaker had finally gotten Wheeljack's cooperation. Ratchet practically pounced on the Prime like a mech possessed as soon as he came into view.

" _ **DID YOU KNOW?!**_ " He howled furiously, waving an arm at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in an expansive gesture.

"I wish he'd stop yelling," Sideswipe muttered under his breath. Sunstreaker was inclined to agree with his brother.

"Did I know what, Ratchet?" Optimus asked, ever the picturesque image of serenity if Megatron wasn't involved. In this instance, however, he looked at least somewhat warily at his CMO.

" _YOUNGLINGS_!" Ratchet shouted, only a fraction quieter now that Optimus was actually in front of him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate; what's this about younglings?"

Ratchet gave a wordless snarl of frustration, grabbed the datapad he'd abandoned on the med-berth and shoved it at Optimus roughly. The Prime took it gingerly, expression somewhere between bemused and concern, though it shifted towards blank almost immediately when he actually began reading.

: _Sorry, Sunstreaker, Ratchet's ignoring me; I don't think I'm gonna be much help! But, uh, good luck — you're gonna need it._ : Wheeljack suddenly said. Sunstreaker sighed. Great. Just perfect.

"Think we can make it out before they notice?" Sideswipe suddenly asked him quietly. Sunstreaker sighed, and Sideswipe echoed him. "Yeah, that's about what I thought."

" _What_ ," said Optimus, and he stared at the pad in his servos with a horrified fixation. Ratchet stared up at him impatiently.

"I, Ratchet, I didn't have _any_ idea-" The Prime choked out, face settling into despair, and Ratchet finally eased up on him with a stern nod. What little relief there was on behalf of the Prime was short-lived, because Ratchet turned towards them with a foreboding expression.

" _You_ two," he hissed. "What on Cybertron possessed you two to _lie on your transcripts_ about your _age_?!"

Sideswipe shifted in place unhappily, and Sunstreaker let him take the lead in this situation.

"We wanted to be Autobots," he muttered mutinously. "The Decpticons were all creeps 'n stuff, and they kept try'n'a kill Sunny."

"Don't call me that," Sunstreaker ordered automatically. Ratchet groaned, palming his faceplate.

" _Primus_ ," he vented. "So much about your behavior makes sense now; I can't believe I didn't see this earlier."

"Sunny's really good at forging stuff like that!" Sideswipe volunteered eagerly, expression deceptively innocent. Sunstreaker kicked him for this swift betrayal from his twin as Ratchet eyed him speculatively.

"He is, is he?" Said the medic. Optimus interrupted just then, voice heavy and shoulders weighed down as though he alone held the world aloft.

"Sideswipe... Sunstreaker... I... I don't know what kind of leader I've been to give you this impression, but I—Autobots _don't_ use youngling-soldiers."

Sunstreaker rolled his shoulder-joints uncomfortably as Sideswipe responded earnestly,

"Yeah, we know! That's why we lied!"

"You were _barely_ in your youngling frames when you joined the Autobots." Optimus told them gravely, as though they were uninformed about the circumstances of their recruitment. He tapped the datapad in his servos disapprovingly.

"How'd you even find the time to get yourself identical frames when the time came so no one would know how old you actually are?" Ratchet then asked, voice exhausted. Sideswipe shrugged, waving a servo lazily at Sunstreaker. The golden mech straightened with discomfort at the combined force of both Ratchet and Optimus staring at him.

"I knew a guy," he admitted vaguely. He would rather not admit to having gone to Swindle out of desperation, or what he'd had to do in return since not even Sideswipe had wrangled that out of him, but he probably would if they pressured him. Thankfully, beyond a penetrating stare, they accepted this at face value.

"You aren't going into any more active-combat situations for the foreseeable future," said the Prime firmly.

Sunstreaker's jaw dropped, and Sideswipe gasped.

"Wh- _what_? Not going on- _what?_ But... But we're two of your best fighters! We're _good_ at what we do! No one else can even do Jet Judo!" Sideswipe cried frantically.

"What else are we even supposed to do?" Sunstreaker protested, "We're _grunts_ , Prime, the closest we get to writing reports is when we give you a vocal assessment after a battle! We're not ranked high enough to do anything else except offline Decepti-creeps!"

"If we were on Cybertron you wouldn't even be legal for high-grade," Ratchet muttered.

"There's more than one way to assist," Optimus said. Sideswipe stared at him, lost, but Sunstreaker stiffened in realization. A slow smile crept up on Ratchet's faceplate as the medic came to the same realization.

" _No_ ," moaned Sunstreaker desperately.

" _Yes_ ," hissed the CMO victoriously. Sideswipe looked between them, the red mech totally lost.

"You can't be _serious_ ," the surlier twin begged.

Optimus nodded gravely.

"I am," he said; not all that sorry, but just apologetic enough.

Sunstreaker whined, vocalizer cracking, and for once he really didn't care what anyone thought of him as he did it. Sideswipe stared at him as if he lost his mind.

"... I have no idea what's going on," confessed the red mech.

" _Medics_ ," Sunstreaker hissed between digits, palming his faceplate. Ratchet looked like the cybercat that ate the Insecticon.

"Wait, what?"

"They want one or both of us to train to be a _medic_ ," He snapped irritatedly. Sideswipe gawked at him before turning to the Prime.

" _What_?" He yelped, "You can't be serious!"

Optimus shook his head,

"I'm sorry Sideswipe, but I'm afraid that's an order. One of you can work with Ratchet and First Aid in the medbay, and the other can work with our officers."

Both twins hesitated.

On one hand, it was _Ratchet_. Sure, he'd always treated them well — really well, actually; Ratchet was pretty awesome when you weren't bleeding out or otherwise grievously injured —, but on the other hand, being a _medic_? Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were good at taking bots apart, not putting them back together. But working with the officers?! Jazz was alright, Sunstreaker admitted to himself, but Prowl? He would be a nightmare and a half over all the skipped legalities and formalities, and that wasn't even considering how Ironhide would react; the mech was protective of _Bumblebee_ , and _he_ was legally an adult! _And oh Primus, Red Alert was going to be unbearable_.

Sideswipe was staring at him intently.

: _Rock, Paper, Scissors?_ : he offered privately. Sunstreaker grimaced at the idea of anything human-related but nodded.

: _Three, two, one, go._ :

Sideswipe had scissors, beating his paper.

"Dammit," he swore. His brother cheered. Sunstreaker turned back to Optimus and Ratchet with an irritated sigh.

"I guess I'll... work with the officers."

"Thank you, Sunstreaker," said Optimus sincerely. The gold mech tried not to grimace and didn't quite succeed.

"Right. We'll just... go now," he said sullenly, and dragged his brother out with him before anyone could say another word.

* * *

"Well, that sucked," The red mech offered seconds after they left the medbay. Sunstreaker eyed him.

"Seriously? We're going with overly obviously statements now?"

Sideswipe shrugged.

"I mean... what're we able to do about it? I don't mind skirting around rules, Sunny-"

" _Don't call me that._ "

"-but disobeying direct orders from both Ratchet and Prime? I'd rather paint Ironhide pink when he's recharging!"

Sunstreaker smirked briefly at the mental image.

"I'd probably help you with that," he admitted. Sideswipe beamed.

"Really?!"

"Sure. Not like anyone would believe I helped you or anything."

The more talkative twin wilted.

"Gee, bro," he said wryly, "you sure know how to put a damper on things."

Sunstreaker shrugged lightly, expression smug.

"Just one of my many talents."

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! You two gotta klik?"

That was Ironhide himself approaching them, his Field emitting little pulses that betrayed his curiosity.

"Hey, 'Hide! What's up?" Sideswipe asked, faceplate deceivingly open.

"Just got back from patrol, and the whole base is buzzing! S'it true Ratchet's been yelling at Prime?"

"Yep," said Sideswipe, practically bouncing on his pedes. He was wound tightly enough that anyone else might mistake it for hyperactivity, but Sunstreaker easily identified it as nervousness.

Ironhide whistled.

"Well I'll be damned! D'you know what happened? Way I hear it, Ratchet may as well have been possessed by Primus — or Unicron, depending on who you talk to!"

"Oh, I'm sure everyone's gonna hear about it sooner or later," Sideswipe answered vaguely. Sunstreaker nodded shortly, doing his best to appear as apathetic and bored as possible.

: _Please keep Sideswipe and Sunstreaker away from combat for the foreseeable future,_ : Optimus announced pleasantly on the public channel. Sunstreaker growled;

"DAMMIT."

"... What'd you two do?" Ironhide asked, suspicious.

Sideswipe opened his mouth to speak but Sunstreaker got there first.

"Frag off!" He snapped, and then it was Sideswipe dragging _him_ away before the conversation could devolve into a fight.

Ironhide was left standing there, bemused.

"... What crawled up _his_ tailpipe?" He asked the now empty hallway.

* * *

"C'mon, bro, you gotta take it down a notch."

Sunny scowled at him. Sideswipe knew it wasn't personal, that he was just mad at anything and everything at the moment, so he didn't take offense.

"I'll steal some of Jazz's energon," he wheedled. Jazz's stash was the best on base and everyone knew it. Sunny's expression wavered just slightly, but it was enough; Sideswipe went in for the kill.

"I'll also get you some of those pastels you like so much! You know, the really thick ones that last longer and leave a brighter imprint?"

Sunny sighed, beaten. Score: one to zero in Sideswipe's favor! (This was an excellent thing, of course; Sideswipe was usually losing by this point in the day since Sunny had "more chill" according to some of the others around base, which was ridiculous since SUNNY was the one who invented Jet Judo in the first place! And anyways, they were all scared of him so it totally wasn't fair that they were on Sunny's side.)

"... What if they kick us out of the Autobots?" Sunny suddenly asked. Sideswipe turned to look at his brother fully, but the gold mech avoided his gaze.

"C'mon Sunny, that won't happen! They love us-"

"They love _you_ ," He corrected, "They _tolerate_ me, and only because I'm effective in battle. Which we were just exempted from."

"No way! I mean, sure, they're not always the most understanding of mechs-"

" _I literally made Bluestreak flashback because I got too involved in practice last week."_

"Oh. But Sunny, wait, that's not even your fault! Smokescreen did that last month!"

Sunny sent him a flat stare, but Sideswipe returned the look with one of his own.

"Okay, so maybe you could be a little nicer to the mini's, but _come on_ , Cliffjumper's practically _asking_ for a game of Toss the Minibot! The guy thought _Mirage_ was a Decepticon for Primus' sake! _Mirage_!"

Sunny's expression didn't change.

"Besides," Sideswipe continued, "You know if they kick you out that I'll just follow you! I mean, worst comes to worst, we can make it as Neutrals!.. I refuse to become Decepticons, so don't even suggest it."

"I wasn't going to," Sunny snapped irritably, "I was just going to say that we could always steal enough of their supplies to build a ship."

"Sorry," Sideswipe apologized. Sunny grunted, but relaxed.

"... It really will be okay, Sunstreaker. Just you wait and see; I promise."


End file.
